


A Happy New Year

by LouLa



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-04
Updated: 2012-02-04
Packaged: 2017-12-08 21:04:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouLa/pseuds/LouLa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His stubborn frown is all too familiar ― I've seen that look on his daddy's face countless times over the past six years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Happy New Year

**Author's Note:**

> For the Twilight No Stress Love Fest Holidays Edition.

It's New Year's morning, and I wake up with a pounding headache. Too much alcohol, too little sleep, and one unsightly incident with my head meeting the ground the night before mean the first day of the year is starting off more than just a little rough around the edges.

Sitting up takes more effort than it rightly should, and I groan as my stomach roils with nausea. Riley's already up, blessed with the resilience of youth and a strange resistance against hangovers that I absolutely envy.

I grab a pair of sweatpants off the floor on my way into the bathroom, wanting nothing more than to simply take a shower and crawl back into bed. Knowing that's not an option, I pull on the pants and brush my teeth, grimacing at myself in the mirror.

Even as my body rebels against movement, I trek my way toward the kitchen, where I can hear the quiet murmur of Riley's voice as he works his way around the space. I can hear the clink of baking sheets being slid into the oven, can smell the sweet scent of the freshly baked cookies. I break into a cold sweat, sick at just the sound and smell, but I forcibly ignore it and shake off the feeling ― it'll pass soon, hopefully.

Noah is already up too, standing at the counter with a stool beneath his feet to give him enough height to reach the mixing bowl in front of him. He holds tightly onto the wooden spoon in his little hand, doing his best to stir the mixture. His fingers dip into the bowl when Riley's back is turned, and I lean against the frame of the doorway, just watching.

Noah knows he's not supposed to eat the dough raw, but he sneaks a glob of it anyway, watching Riley's back as he licks the sweet, sticky mix from his hand.

"I saw that," Riley growls menacingly as he spins around suddenly to face our son.

Noah jumps slightly, caught with his fingers still in his mouth. He's all baby teeth and round red cheeks as he laughs at Riley's imposing glare.

It's an impossibility, but so often, I think of how Noah and Riley are exactly the same. Trouble, through and through.

Biologically, Noah is my son. He looks like me, blonde-haired and blue-eyed, but everything else about him is Riley. It's almost as if Riley carried him through the pregnancy himself, giving Noah nine long months to soak all of Riley's trouble-making tendencies right into his skin.

It's truly a miracle. Noah's surrogate was a quiet little thing, nothing at all like my two wild and crazy boys. He was made for us; we were made for each other. He's the greatest part of our lives, and the staple to our happy little family. The two of them are the very best thing to ever happen to me.

Riley finally spots me and sidles over, clearly amused by my weakened state, though he fails miserably at trying to hide it behind a frown.

"You look terrible," he says pityingly, sliding an arm around my waist.

I grumble at him and he chuckles, patting my ass reassuringly.

"How's your head?" he asks as he steps right up against me and reaches his hand to my hair, finding the sore spot with his fingers and making me hiss and jerk away from him.

His smirk only widens at my reaction, the bastard. "You hit it really hard," he says, a hint of pride in his voice.

I look at him disbelievingly and say, "I know, I was there."

"It was so worth it."

He squeezes my ass for emphasis and I huff out a disgruntled, "Pervert," as I pull away from him. "We are never doing _that_ , in the _backyard_ , while _drunk_ , in the _dark_ , ever again."

"You're no fun," he pouts, before he's again baring his teeth in a devilish grin. "Remember that time in the shower–"

" _Not_ up for discussion," I cut him off, rubbing at my temples as I make my way to the cupboard for some pain relievers.

Noah is completely immersed in his task, thankfully still blissfully oblivious ― it's only a matter of time before Riley's filthy mouth is going to get us in big trouble, I'm sure. I kiss him good morning and he mostly ignores me to continue trying to beat the dough into submission. He's a mess, flour and eggs all over his pajamas, peanut butter in his hair. His stubborn frown is all too familiar ― I've seen that look on his daddy's face countless times over the past six years.

Riley meets me at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee and I thank him, wishing him good morning too, remembering that I haven't yet. When I sit, Riley slides down into my lap, sitting on my knee while I rest my achy head on his shoulder. He kisses me lightly, on the cheek then my lips, fingers sliding gently through my hair, over the tender spot at the back of my head.

A loud clatter startles us both. Noah is still on his stool, wooden spoon still clutched in his hand and his eyes wide, mouth a perfect 'O' of surprise. The mixing bowl is in the middle of the kitchen floor, turned over but not broken. It's a coin toss whether Noah will cry and throw a tantrum over the mess or move on like nothing ever happened.

Riley just snorts, nuzzling and kissing me one last time before getting up. "Happy New Year," he says.

My fingers stay wrapped around his as he stands, my arm reaching out to keep us connected until the very last possible second.

He's right, it is a happy new year. It's another year I'll get to spend with him, with both of them ― one of many more to come. Even with my head throbbing and Noah screaming in my ear, Riley frustrated and the smell of burning cookies all through the house, I couldn't be happier.


End file.
